Tales of the 51st Millennium
by Soraga
Summary: Fifty thousand years separate the Zero Requiem from the Despoiler's invasion of Terra. These are the untold tales of those times: of battles fought, of alliances forged, and of those left behind.
1. The Battle of Deneb

**Disclaimer:** _Code Geass_ and _Warhammer 40k_ belong to other people.

 **A/N:** Welcome, one and all, to _Tales of the 51st Millennium_! Despite it's title, this short story collection began as a series of omakes for the main _Code Geass 50k_ story, but due to the sheer number of omakes planned, they are now split off into their own section. Despite its title, the stories here will cover not just the 51st Millennium but everything in between. The Great War, the Necrotic Wars, you name it. There will be serious stories, and a few silly ones mixed in here and there. How to tell the two apart? The serious ones (or at least the ones that could've happened in the main universe) will have a brief, italicized paragraph explaining the context in the wider galaxy.

 **The Battle of Deneb**

 _Officially known to the Imperium as Alpha Cygni, the Hive World of Deneb is located deep within the Ultima Segmentum. The system once played host to enormous Mechanicum mining stations plundering rich veins of heavy metals and stellar hydrogen to fuel the Imperium's ravenous war machines. Those days have long past, and Deneb's only notable resource now is its people. While overlooked by Abaddon's forces, Deneb found itself in the path of a Necron harvest fleet during the closing years of M50. The battle fought between Necron legionaries and the 5_ _th_ _OPAW on the Hive World's surface resulted in one of the Black Knights' first clear victories of the Third Necrotic War, bringing notability to an otherwise-unremarkable campaign._

Lances of red and green crossed the battlefield as the 5th OPAW continued its advance up the hive. Of all the enemies that the Black Knights had ever faced, the Necrons were definitely the toughest. The 5th OPAW had lost many good men and women to the enemy Gauss weapons, which bored through their battle suits alarmingly quickly. Their hadron carbines blew holes in the Necron formations, reducing Warriors into twisted scrap metal, but the enemy just kept on coming.

When a sudden meteor shower appeared in the sky, the morale of the 5th OPAW threatened to break. The Black Knights orbital support consisted of the destroyer _Avalon_ and a squadron of frigates, up against a Necron fleet of roughly similar size. The last report was not good, and if debris was raining down the atmosphere…

"We got word from the _Avalon_! Confirmed kill on Necron Harvest Ship!"

A cheer rose throughout the 5th OPAW, as the Necron vessel broke up in the atmosphere. The Scythe-class Harvest Ship was a tough ship to hit, and even harder to bring down. The _Avalon_ had used its powerful forward-mounted hadron cannons on it, and, even then, it took several FLEIJA volleys to bring the monster down. Despite the difficult battle, the news did wonders for the ground forces, which began advancing through the rapidly-thinning ranks of the Necrons, now cut off from reinforcements.

The 5th OPAW rushed down the ranks of the Necron Warrior squad, rapidly closing the distance before sending a wall of hadron fire at them. Several were blown off their feet, and the green flashes of Necrons phasing out were gratifyingly common. When the battle became close-in, it was a small miracle that the members of the 5th OPAW were not hitting each other with their weapons. Many had switched to their hadron swords, taking advantage of the clumsiness of the Necron Warriors in melee combat.

"Necron Lord! Shoot it! Shoot it!"

The members of the 5th OPAW not involved in the melee turned their carbines towards the towering Necron Lord, sending a storm of hadron bolts into the automaton, to little avail. They pockmarked the monstrosity's armor, which just flowed back together. The thing lowered its staff, vaporizing one of the OPAW members with a stream of lightning. Participants in the nearby melee, now clearly an OPAW victory, were beginning to add their own firepower towards bringing down the Necron Lord.

Slowly, the wounds taken by the Necron Lord began to add up, and the thing slumped, seemingly using its staff as a cane. A few more shots caused it to finally fall over, before phasing out in a flash of green.

"Hey, has anyone seen Johann?"

The members of the 5th OPAW quickly sounded off, and, surely enough, Corporal Johann Nathan was missing. The members of the 3rd Squad began to broadcast on the squad channel, in hopes of locating the missing Corporal, but were saved a lot of trouble when the said Corporal's voice broke into the channel.

"Aiiiiiieeee! They're everywhere! Everywhere!"

"Corporal! Calm down! Just keep talking and we'll trace your position!"

The Corporal's panicked screams were heard over the chattering of a hadron carbine, doubtlessly his own, and the ripping sound of Gauss flayers.

They found him an hour later, huddled in a corner and muttering "Cold. So cold." Any attempts to find out what had happened were only met with silence.

 _Battle of Deneb, After Action Report Supplementary:_ On the topic of Corporal Johann Nathan, 3rd Squad, 5th OPAW, it was determined upon review of his helmet camera footage that he had taken a wrong turn during a firefight, and was separated from his unit. While attempting to rejoin his unit, he encountered a Necron Pariah squad attempting to flank the main body of the 5th OPAW. In taking them down, the Corporal suffered severe psychological strain from exposure to their psychic-blotting aura, eventually going into a state of severe shock. He currently remains in the medical wing.


	2. Fun With the Emperor's Tarot

**Disclaimer:** _Code Geass and Warhammer 40k_ belong to other people. I've got a few other disclaimers sprinkled throughout to avoid spoiling the (rather predictable) jokes.

 **A/N:** These were kind of meant to silly ones, and I've added them both to one chapter due to their short length.

 **Fun With the Emperor's Tarot**

The Ecclesiarch wasn't sure what compelled him to draw another card, but he did so anyway. His faith ensured protection from the Ruinous Powers, and his fortress guards exhaustively searched anyone entering and leaving the fortress. Was the Emperor trying to communicate a message to them? Was it a message so profound that it necessitated altering the Tarot?

He was given quite a few looks when the card was turned over. The Inquisitorial representative looked like he suspected heresy, and the others looked like he was crazy. Turning the card so he could see it, the Ecclesiarch saw red. Whoever did this was going to _pay_.

Depicted on the card was a human male, perhaps twenty or thirty, with short orange hair. With a black-and-white striped sweater and a dark-colored jacket, the human was motioning in front of a microphone, moving his arms in gestures that probably passed for dancing on some hive world or another. No whispers in the back of his head told him the identity of this card.

Taking a closer look, the Ecclesiarch was nearly shocked unconscious when noise emanated from the card. It was some happy, upbeat tune that he found strangely catchy. He began to bob his head to the music, and the other High Lords were joining in. The Cardinals looked on in confusion, unsure of what to do. Then the singing began, spouting some nonsense about never giving one up.

The head-bobbing suddenly stopped. All the High Lords had a feeling some huge joke had been played on them.

Meanwhile in the Warp, three Psykers of incomprehensible power devolved into uncontrollable laughter. They just stood there, leaning against one another for mutual support as the hysteria passed through their systems.

"Just as planned," Tzeentch remarked while rubbing his hands together, being the first to recover, before devolving into villainous cackling.

"I've wanted to do that for years," the Emperor added, still laughing hysterically as he wiped a tear from his eye.

The Guardian chuckled, "I knew you had a sense of humor, Tzeentchie."

The Emperor immediately stopped laughing, turning towards the Chaos god with a raised eyebrow, "Tzeentchie?"

Tzeentch looked horrified, "Not as planned! Not as planned!"

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** _Never Gonna Give You_ _Up_ also belongs to other people.

* * *

 **Another Familiar Face**

The Imperial and Eldar fleets were thrown into high alert as a fleet of Dark Eldar warships appeared on their sensors and approached from high speed.

"Lower your weapons! We mean no harm!" the flagship announced on an open channel.

The combined fleets held their fire, but kept their guns pointed at the approaching Dark Eldar ships nonetheless. Their counterparts approached with their weapons powered down, dispelling some tension amongst the human and Eldar crews alike.

"The Supreme Archon, Mistress of Commorragh, sends her regards and has ordered that all Kabals immediately deploy for the defense of Terra!"

It took Nunnally, Suzaku, and Kallen broadcasting straight from the Golden Throne to break the stupefied silence.

"I can't say I'm not grateful," Nunnally ventured, "But wasn't your ruler male the last time we checked?"

The Dark Eldar captain wove an unbelievable tale. A stranger, neither Dark Eldar nor Half-Born, had appeared one day at the Port of Lost Souls. With naught but a sheet of paper folded over itself several times, she kept opportunistic Dark Eldar slavers at bay while simultaneously establishing a reputation throughout Commorragh. Hosting one of her parties, considered hedonistic even by Dark Eldar standards, soon became a status symbol amongst the elite. Word of the stranger and her exploits eventually reached Asdrubael Vect. Outbidding all others, he invited her to his palace and wrote her a blank check to throw the grandest and most decadent party her imagination could conceive.

"Few accounts of the party remain, and even fewer survivors," the Dark Eldar captain concluded, "Asdrubael Vect himself was found dead the next day with a Voidraven engine, seven magazines of Astartes bolter shells, three Banshee Masks from three different Craftworlds, a dozen Commissar caps, two Warscythes, a bandolier of Photon Grenades, seventeen thousand unique flavors of the confection known as 'cotton candy,' and a feathered cap scattered on the floor around him. The stranger was found sitting on the throne of the Kabal of the Black Heart, and nobody could muster the courage to challenge her claim."

"From her latest orders, I take it that this stranger had ties with us?" Nunnally asked, intrigued.

"She claims to have met you before. About this," the Dark Eldar captain raised his hand about one and a half meters off the ground, "tall. Blonde. Constantly followed around by some lovesick blue-haired idiot…"

A _crash_ echoed through the communications channel as all three present Black Knights leaders face-faulted.

* * *

 **A/N:** If you're curious as to what actually happened to Milly, worry not! That question _will_ be answered!


	3. Monster

**Disclaimer:** _Code_ Geass, _Warhammer_ _40k_ , and _Frozen_ belong to other people.

 **A/N:** I'm _really_ not sure what possessed me to write this one. I'm...93% sure I was sober when thinking it up. Not sure if I want this one to be serious or not, but I added a context paragraph regardless.

 **Monster**

 _The highly-developed psychic abilities of Black Knights Special Warfare Operatives manifest in a dizzying range of forms. Trained almost exclusively to harness their powers for combat, it should not come as a surprise that lightning- and fire-based forms are the most common. Operatives have occasionally exhibited other forms, but such manifestations are observed far more frequently among unaugmented human Psykers. However, sightings are still exceedingly rare, as the vast majority of Psykers in the Imperium are either seized by the Inquisition or fall to Chaos. When individuals possessing such gifts are found, the results are often a sight to behold._

They had landed expecting a rapid conquest in the name of the Imperium. After all, how could a world that held submachine guns and prop planes as the pinnacle of military technology possibly stand up to the crushing numbers of the Imperial Guard? The pride of the equatorial nation-states, their navies, was crushed in a single week. The eastern kingdoms, having long relied on the hostile deserts for protection, proved no match to endless tank regiments. Buoyed by easy victories and dizzy with success, they had fearlessly marched into a minor coastal kingdom to the north.

Though Colonel Waltz and the Commissar Leitzke remained tight-lipped, Lieutenant Karol Bonham had heard rumors. The 14th Line Korps had launched an amphibious assault, quickly securing the main port and then falling completely silent. The Tallarn 231st, dispatched twenty-four hours later, had attempted to scale the mountains to the kingdom's north. Their final garbled transmissions raved of monsters in the snow and a citadel built of gleaming ice. Twelve hours later, the 19th Pintax Forge Guards received orders to march.

* * *

It had begun as a chill in the air, the temperatures dropping noticeably with each step. Unease crept up Lieutenant Bonham's spine as the skies darkened and the vox descended into absolute silence. The seasoned Guardsman's senses shifted into high alert when his boots met snow with a loud _crunch_. A few more steps, and his face stung with cold as an intense blizzard welled up.

"Sir!" a Guardsman, eyes wide with fear, ran up to Karol, "We've found the Tallarns…"

* * *

Not even Karol Bonham, veteran of a dozen campaigns, could suppress the bile rising in his throat as the remnants of the Tallarn 231st came into view. As he drew closer, he could make out the shattered hulks of Leman Russ tanks—some flipped over—smoldering in the snow. Tallarn corpses were scattered throughout the plain, staining the ground a sickening crimson. Some were impaled upon pillars of ice, some were frozen solid, and some simply lay mangled and half-buried in the snow.

A hand gripped Karol's ankle, and the Lieutenant nearly dashed his assailant's skull with the butt of his lasrifle. The blow stopped mere centimeters from the forehead of a half-dead Tallarn.

"Fetch a corpsman!" Karol barked as he knelt down and helped the Guardsman sit upright.

The Tallarn's eyes were wild, and his skin freezing to the touch. Frostbite had already set in on his extremities, and ice encrusted his lower half.

"What happened here?" the Lieutenant demanded.

The Guardsman's eyes focused and unfocused, his gaze flicking in every direction. His gibbering grew louder, and Karol finally recognized it as the Emperor's Prayer.

"Guardsman!" Karol barked, shaking the Tallarn lightly, "What happened here?"

The Tallarn turned towards Lieutenant Bonham with wide eyes, seemingly noticing him for the first time.

"Flamers, plasma guns, krak missiles, meltas," the Tallarn raved, "Nothing worked! _Nothing worked!_ "

The rumbling of Leman Russ engines briefly drew Karol's attention away. He waited for the massive armored vehicles, each bearing a dozen Guardsmen upon their hulls, to roar past. The Tallarn suddenly gripped the Lieutenant's lapels and dragged him down, his ear resting so close to the dying Guardsman's mouth that his whispers could be heard even over the tanks.

"Monster," he gurgled, "She's a _monster_ …"

Before Karol could question the Guardsman any further, he took his final breath and expired. A cracking sound assaulted the Lieutenant's ears, and he looked on in horror as the corpse turned to flawless ice before his very eyes.

" _Incoming!_ " a nearby Guardsman screamed.

The last thing Lieutenant Karol Bonham ever saw was a column of jagged ice smashing through the tanks, perforating one and flipping another over, and racing towards him.


	4. Unusual Bedfellows

**Disclaimer:** _Code Geass and Warhammer 40k_ belong to other people.

 **Unusual Bedfellows**

 _Operation Morning Glory, a collaboration between the OPAW Raiders and the Psychic Special Warfare Department, remains one of the most controversial campaigns prosecuted by the Black Knights military, due to both its departure from established doctrine and its outcome. Marking the first and only time the Black Knights initiated hostilities against the Dark Eldar Kabals, numerous high-ranking Archons and Hierarchs were marked for death in an effort to pre-emptively hamstring Commorragh as a threat to the Fleet. While the operation achieved only a portion of its original objectives, it succeeded in forging one of the Black Knights' most unusual and secret alliances._

The most unusual thing that Operative Kamil Amadori noticed about the citadel of the Kabal of the Malevolent Gale was how _clean_ it was. Granted, he had only seen the interior of one other Dark Eldar base, and it had been a temporary corsair structure consisting of little more than slave pens connected to torture chambers. But compared to the stomach-churning sights of the pirate base, of captives tortured in the most horrific ways imaginable—some had not even been granted the mercy of death—and twisted constructs of flesh that would not look out of place amongst the gene-cults of Luna, the fortress located within the Dark City itself seemed almost uncomfortably sterile.

They were expected. Though the opposite would be nearly impossible, Kamil mused: two dozen power armor-clad soldiers, as large as Imperial Space Marines and as heavily-armed, strolling in through the front door was simply impossible to miss. Throngs of Kabalite Warriors lined the path, blocking off any side passages and funneling the team towards what they hoped was an audience chamber. The Archon seemed more intrigued than threatened, as the guards watched them closely but made no move to attack.

Their destination was a set of great metal doors, flanked by two Incubi. Hands ghosted for hadron machine guns, then thought better of it. With a protesting groan, the doors swung open.

* * *

"You are either brave, or foolish, and I have yet to decide which."

The strike force stood their ground, hands clasped behind their backs and feet shoulder-width apart, as the Archon of the Kabal of the Malevolent Gale sized them up. Impossibly beautiful and equally vain, every gesture a carefully-calculated display of grace, and every exposed inch of unmarred near-translucent skin a testament to her skill in combat, she was obviously not to be trifled with. A richly-ornamented gown, not immodestly cut even by the Black Knights' more conservative standards, hugged her slim figure just tightly enough to tantalize while still leaving plenty to the imagination. Kamil reckoned he could outfit a cruiser with the garment's price.

"You have certainly caused quite a stir in Commorragh. Imagine, an Archon assassinated by an unknown force…and in his own citadel, no less! You are either very skilled, or very lucky, to pull off such a feat without anyone catching so much as your names," Kamil _really_ didn't like the way she licked her lips, "I would imagine there are a great many parties that would pay handsomely for even one of you. Have you come here to make an attempt on my life? Did you hope entering my citadel in such a manner would confer you some…illusory advantage? Or do you appear before me for… _other_ …purposes?"

"Archon Tayelene," the Raider Lieutenant in charge of the operation began, "I see now that the tales of your beauty and your charms are not exaggerated. Quite simply, we have something that may interest you, and you have something we desire. I believe we can come to a… _mutually beneficial_ …arrangement."

Kamil could not distinguish how much of the Raider Lieutenant's even tone was helmet modulation and how much was personal discipline. Even the greenest recruit could see how dangerous the Archon was: Kamil had no doubt that many had bartered their very souls for but a single night between her sheets, and if the tales were to be believed, she was about to become _far_ more dangerous.

"Above all else," the Lieutenant proffered a data crystal to the approaching Incubus, "the tales speak of your sharp business acumen and ruthless bargaining."

"What is this?" the Archon demanded, the dripping honey in her voice replaced with cold steel as she inserted the crystal into a reader and skimmed the contents.

"Archon Tayelene, there are at least a half-dozen other assassinations we've carried out that _weren't_ traced back to us. We took the liberty of raiding the data vaults before we left, the contents of which we intend to barter for safe passage from Commorragh. Consider this a show of good faith."

"Impressive. Most impressive," the Archon laughed, "Very well. _Make an offer, then._ "


	5. A Strange Encounter

**Disclaimer:** _Code Geass and Warhammer 40k_ belong to other people. A second disclaimer is below, to avoid spoiling the ending.

 **A/N:** So...this one is also kinda weird. It fits enough to merit a context paragraph, but I leave it up to the reader to decide if this actually occurred in the _Code Geass 50k_ timeline.

 **A Strange Encounter**

 _As skilled in the art of infiltration as they are at negotiation, the Black Knights' Diplomatic Corps remains one of the Fleet's most obscure and shadowy organizations. While much of the Corps is staffed with off-duty militia, its roster also boasts an unusually-large proportion of retired OPAW. As comfortable within a Knightmare as without, members of the Diplomatic Corps are one of the Fleet's main suppliers of information regarding the wider galaxy. Some have compared them to the Imperial Inquisition, and it is rumored that members of the former embedded into the latter are responsible for maintaining the Fleet's millennia-long masquerade._

He noted with some amusement that he still reflexively adopted a parade rest even though he had mustered out of the Orbital Planetary Assault Wing nearly a decade ago. He'd simply grown too old to serve in the elite shock corps anymore, his knowledge and experience no longer able to compensate for his slower reflexes and reduced stamina. He took up a position as an instructor for a little while, found he had no talent for it, and spent several years bouncing from job to job until he somehow found a position as a diplomatic liaison. Considering the secrecy that the Fleet operated under, he was quite surprised to find such a department even _existed_.

Seeing the universe through a machine gun sight tended to narrow one's view a little, he had quickly realized. For every ten hostile species out there, there was one the Black Knights could safely approach provided reasonable precautions for secrecy. The Jokaero, for example, simply didn't care who they were so long as they bought scrap to trade. And the Imperium's spotty record keeping made it trivial to pass off as a minor noble whose house was lost to a rounding error, allowing him free run to scope out the star system or slip interesting artifacts onto or off of a planet. The biggest surprise of his second career was learning that several Eldar craftworlds knew of the Black Knights, but for reasons known only to them, chose not to divulge the information.

Such a revelation explained why the one-time OPAW trooper was now standing aboard Craftworld Ulthwé. Not even the Quadrumvirate could guess why the Eldar saw fit to aid in the Black Knights' masquerade, but the Fleet regularly dispatched diplomats to offer favors in exchange for continued discretion. Most of the time, the Seer Councils just requested that the Fleet stay out of their path, though the Black Knights had occasionally loaned troops for some expedition or another. The Black Guardians had been coldly cordial, receiving his shuttle in silence and allowing the crew to venture into the Craftworld under escort for rest and sustenance while they escorted him to a small waiting area.

It wasn't too bad, all things considered. None of the Eldar his party had passed had called him "mon-keigh." At least, not to his face. And the room's low furniture proved surprisingly comfortable.

What piqued his interest was the weapons hanging on the far wall. He questioned what Imperial technology was doing hanging up on an Eldar craftworld, and eventually concluded they were probably a trophy of some kind. He couldn't blame whoever claimed them: they were remarkably well-engineered, probably well beyond current Imperial knowledge. Tiny sensor packages, which were _definitely_ beyond current Imperial technology to replicate, embedded in the grips performed countless calculations to ensure the perfect shot. Each round was painstakingly hand-crafted and individually adapted for the specific mission. One of his old squadmates had told him of a boast that the recoil-reducing and sound-dampening mechanisms were so advanced that a slumbering infant could be used as a bipod, and the resulting shot wouldn't even wake the child. He _sincerely_ hoped the boast was just Mechanicum hot air, but he could never tell with Tech-Priests.

"Exitus rifle, and the matching pistol," a voice declared from behind, "They were my father's."

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** _Love Can Bloom_ was written by somebody else. **  
**


	6. Repayment

**Disclaimer:** _Code Geass and Warhammer 40k_ belong to other people.

 **Repayment**

 _The outbreak of the Great War barely two years after the Zero Requiem undid much of the reconstruction that occurred following the assassination of Lelouch vi Britannia. The secession of the Chinese Federation and the Euro Universe reduced the United Federation of Nations to a shadow of its former self, and the April Fools' Offensives destroyed the Black Knights as an effective military force. While a coalition spearheaded by Kaguya Sumeragi and Jiang Lihua eventually succeeded in reining in the worst of the excesses on all three sides, the UFN was ultimately powerless to stop the Great War. The conflict depleted almost all of the world's remaining Sakuradite supplies, setting into motion a series of events that culminated in a global financial and technological crash several decades later._

When Zero assassinated Lelouch vi Britannia before a crowd of millions, some had optimistically proclaimed it the beginning of a new golden age. Military spending and enlistment rates plummeted, the newly-released resources used to better the standard of living across the world. Weapons factories were retooled, great public works projects began, and nations banded together to eradicate poverty and disease.

The Empress of Britannia shocked the world mere months into her reign, writing a blank check to Japan to aid in reconstruction efforts. Forests and mountains were reclaimed, the former ghettos were cleaned and repaired, and electricity and running water soon became available to all. Under the protection of the UFN and the Black Knights, the island nation served as an effective neutral ground between the once-mortal enemies of Britannia and the Chinese Federation. By the time they caught wind of the troops massing in Manchuria, it was already far too late.

Exhausted from war and unprepared for fresh hostilities, the Black Knights' Japanese garrison was quickly swept aside. Not even the legendary Crimson Lotus, Kallen Kozuki, could halt the endless waves of troops and Knightmares for long. When Chinese forces finally broke the defenses of Sapporo, the UFN's final stronghold in Japan, they paraded the twisted wreckage of the Guren SEITEN and the redheaded ace's distinctive headband through the streets.

Nobody was quite sure who fired the first shot, or even who started the riot. When word spread that Kaname Oghi—fugitive Prime Minister of Japan and the leader of many an unsuccessful resistance against the Chinese forces—and his family were hiding in the city, the violence quickly spiraled out of control. The few UFN personnel that could be spared to riot control duties were ripped apart and trampled underfoot as the crowd surrounded the nondescript residence.

While Villetta crouched in the back of the room, arms wrapped tightly around the couple's young daughter, Oghi chanced a glance outside the windows. A brick smashing through the glass sent the man scrambling back to cover. The sound of wood splintering then shattering assaulted their ears, and the family could only hold one another tightly as the rioters flooded into the building.

"Is _this_ what you call justice?" a new voice angrily shouted, "Is _this_ the lesson you learned from his death?"

Oghi cracked open his eyes to see a familiar curvaceous figure standing between them and the angry crowd. A sweep of the arm that reminded him a little too much of a certain Britannian Emperor, and the rioters were thrown back by some unseen force. The unexpected rescuer disappeared for a split second as a middle-aged man rushed her with a baseball bat, reappearing behind the attacker and knocking him out with a lightning-fast chop to the neck.

Villetta opened her eyes just in time to see her savior disappear under a pile of bodies, which held for all of two seconds before they were violently thrown aside. Most of the rioters had already dispersed, some doubling back to aid their injured companions. One foolhardy youth decided they wanted to try their chances, drew a knife, and charged ahead. Said youth stopped meters from her target, slowly rising into the air as she clutched her throat and gasped for breath.

"Go!" the new arrival roared as she released the youth, "Get out of here! Next person who rushes me will not be so lucky!"

"Kallen? How?" Oghi croaked.

"It's a _long_ story," the redheaded ace admitted as she helped the couple to their feet, "And I'm not sure if I believe most of it myself, to be honest."

"They said you died at Sapporo!" Villetta gasped, "Why hide? You could've demoralized the entire Chinese army!"

"A war is coming," a lanky, horrifically-familiar figure stepped out of the shadows behind Kallen, "Not in a hundred years, not even in ten thousand, but one that will dwarf the one brewing between Britannia, the Chinese Federation, and the EU a million times over. Steps must be taken to prepare humanity for that day."

Oghi took a step forward, putting himself between the former Demon Emperor and his family.

"I'm not here for some act of petty revenge, if that's what you're thinking. I only appear before you because Kallen wishes it," Oghi's eyes widened in horror as Lelouch's arm draped affectionately around the redheaded pilot's waist, "Consider this repayment for the loyalty shown during the First Black Rebellion. I do warn you, however: this is a one-time deal. No matter what fate may await you after tonight, you will not see us again."

Zero, his Red Queen, and the young family faded from sight, a slight breeze blowing through the ruined building to signal their disappearance.

* * *

The miraculous events of that night only bought the family a temporary reprieve. The Chinese Federation captured them two weeks later when their armies crushed the final bastions of Japanese resistance. Imprisoned, paraded before the beaten populace, and subjected to a televised show trial where they testified against themselves at gunpoint, Kaname Oghi, Viletta Nu, and even their daughter were convicted of opposing the People's Revolution and sentenced to death.

As it turned out, Lelouch lied. He appeared before them one final time: as they faced the firing squad, whisking their daughter to safety moments before the fatal order was given.

* * *

 **A/N:** Looking back at some of these "where are they now?" omakes makes me think I have something against happy endings.


	7. Time Warped, Part I

**Disclaimer:** _Code Geass and Warhammer 40k_ belong to other people.

 **A/N:** This one is a silly one, since we've had _far_ too many grimdark ones so far. This one wound up being surprisingly popular, so this will kind of be a...short story collection within a short story collection, I guess?

 **Time Warped**

Lieutenant Delia Evadne of the 44th OPAW Raiders was confused, to say the least. One moment, they were preparing to ship off of Mars, and the next, they were standing in some sort of cave. Or at least half her squad was standing in some sort of cave. The other half was going on about four-meter-tall Knightmares that took hits about as well as tissue paper. Also something about their weapons hitting as hard as wadded-up strips of the same substance.

" _Lelouch!_ "

" _Suzaku!_ "

Upon seeing the pistols, reflexes outran rational thought. One of the figures twirled through the air with a kick that only the Lancelot would _ever_ look non-idiotic doing. He spun for all of two revolutions before an OPAW Raider tackled him to the ground. The other figure, donning a significantly less practical version of Zero's outfit, went down next as a Raider threw him to the ground, sank a knee into his shoulder, and trained a machine gun at his head.

"General Kururugi?" the first Raider questioned, now helping the thoroughly-confused Honorary Britannian stand.

"Zero!" the other Raider exclaimed in a panic, yanking the thoroughly-confused exiled prince to his feet and rapidly dusting off the outfit while wondering what latrines he would be scrubbing for the next millennium.

"General Kozuki?" Delia carefully approached the third figure, who seemed on the verge of passing out, "What's going on?"

"Wha?" the redhead gaped, "Who are you?"

"Lieutenant Delia Evadne, 44th Raiders, ma'am," Delia snapped to attention, thoroughly confused, "We were dispatched to the Argyre Planitia forge complex with orders to break through and link up with the forces defending the Titan workshop."

"Titan?" Lelouch recovered his senses next, turning to a random Raider with hopes they would start making sense.

"Sir," the indicated Raider snapped to attention, "A Titan is an ultra-heavy war machine fielded by the Imperium of Man, generally agreed to consist of four classes: Warhound, Reaver, Warlord, and Emperor. Armaments vary by class, and may incl-"

"Argyre Planitia?" Suzaku's eyebrows hit the ceiling.

"I think we found the commander of those toy Knightmares," a new voice over the squad uplink saved anyone from opening _that_ can of worms, "Do we have any records of a...uh…'Schneizel'?"

"What _year_ is this?" Delia ventured, taking a complete shot in the dark.

"What year do you _think_ it is?" Lelouch countered, eyebrows raising.

"At the same time, then?" another Raider offered, taking the collective shrugs as license to do so.

"Alright. Three. Two. One."

"2017 a.t.b."

"Year 17, of the fifty-first millennium."

"Well," Raider, revolutionary, and Honorary Britannian locked gazes, "Shit."


	8. Initiation

**Disclaimer:** _Code Geass and Warhammer 40k_ belong to other people.

 **Initiation**

 _Of all the myriad organizations within the Black Knights, few remain as ill-understood as the Psychic Special Warfare Department. Department Operatives, lethal close-quarters and psychic combatants granted the power of Geass, are respected and feared in equal magnitudes. Even less is known about the elite Squad Zero, though they are the subject of many an entertainment piece. It is known that Squad Zero has always numbered twelve members, and the only former Squad Zero Operatives are dead ones._

Born within the top five-millionths of a percentile in regard to psychic potential, his parents were among the few Black Knights to have ever met the inscrutable Director CC in person. Nobody had ever figured out how she discerned those with the gift, but the green-haired immortal had appeared in the delivery ward mere hours after his birth. Deathly silence reigned, as all knew what a visit from the Director heralded. According to his parents, the immortal had scrutinized him for several minutes—as if she were searching for some physical defect—before touching a single finger to his forehand and declaring that she would see him again in eighteen years.

When the time had come for his first muster, a soldier in an unmarked black uniform arrived to collect him. As a youth, he had heard many tales of the Psychic Special Warfare Department and the famed Squad Zero, though he—like many of his friends—had dismissed many of them as exaggeration. As he quickly learned, many of the tales were in fact _played down_. He also learned on the first day that Director CC was, despite her normally-lazy demeanor, _fast_. Blindingly so. When they trained in the sparring ring, her strikes had come from a dozen directions at once. Breaking through his defenses was not a question of _if_ , but _when_ and _how_. Between the punishing physical and psychic training, he had spent many hours poring over daemonic lore of the type that would sicken even Raiders.

With the incredible rarity of adequately-powerful Psykers, the operatives he met during his training were already fully-trained. The Director instructed him one-on-one, and he had not even met another trainee until yesterday. CC even remarked that such an event was quite rare: she had often gone years between apprentices. Before that night's sparring drill, the immortal presented him with a paired sword and dagger. Though he had never seen the weapons before, he knew upon gripping the handles that they were forged specifically for him. They behaved as extensions of his body and felt nearly weightless. At the end, CC simply stated that his training was complete and to report to the sparring room the next day 1200 hours sharp.

To say that he entered the darkened room with a little consternation would have been the understatement of the year. He could feel a dozen presences, though just distorted enough that he could not locate them. As he stepped into the center of the ring, a sudden psychic flare briefly blinded him. When his vision cleared, he saw Director CC before him, the hood of her robes pulled low over her face. A dozen black-clad operatives formed a ring around him, their daggers held aloft and alight with psychic flame.

"Christopher Lund, it is to my judgement that you have fulfilled all the requirements to be inducted into the Psychic Special Warfare Department," the Director began, "You have been entrusted with knowledge sufficient to drive weaker minds insane, studied the forbidden lore needed to combat our deadliest foes. If there are any who believe him unworthy, let them step forward now."

"I object," Christopher jumped in surprise as one of the black-clad operatives stepped forward.

"And what is the nature of your objection?" the Director responded with the tone one would reserve for a tedious but necessary formality.

"An operative of the Psychic Special Warfare Department must be willing to sacrifice everything, even their own sanity, to ensure the safety of the Fleet and its people. He has not yet proven he is willing to make such a sacrifice."

Christopher suspected that the exchange went beyond mere formality. He felt a dozen minds touching his, weaving additional defenses into his already-formidable psychic aegis: wards against particular forms of psychic assault, fragments of lore anathema to specific daemons. A pale hand proffering a ceremonial dagger appeared from beneath CC's robes.

"That is a decision only he can make. Christopher Lund, I have but one final lesson I can impart upon you. Known as the Power of Kings in ancient times, the ability known as Geass is both a gift and a curse. You would be granted the power to ensure the Fleet's safety from the Warp and its monstrosities, but it will change you. You will live a life of isolation, and you will either one day master the power or be consumed by it. Do you accept this contract?"

"I accept," Christopher answered with only a moment's hesitation, stepping forward to accept the dagger.

"Then so be it," the objecting operative stepped forward, a crimson sigil appearing in his eyes.

* * *

 **A/N:** This omake serves two purposes: to talk a little about the Black Knights' pet psychic ninjas and to be probably as close as I will get to divulging the Zero Squad's exact nature until the end of the main story.


	9. Survivors

**Disclaimer:** _Code Geass and Warhammer 40k_ belong to other people.

 **A/N:** So, remember when I promised you would find out what happened to Milly? Well, here I am making good on that.

 **Survivors**

 _The name Millicent Ashford appears only in the earliest and most fragmentary of the Black Knights' historical records. Originally a current events reporter for a Japanese television station, she later achieved international fame as a war correspondent braving some of the Great War's bloodiest battlefields. She is credited with solidifying the legend of the Aquila and with exposing the use of chemical weaponry by Britannian, Chinese, and European forces in Western New York. Her last official broadcast is dated June 5, 2026, though a final unaired tape is rumored to exist._

Though random chance had placed Milly Ashford in Fukuoka when Chines forces conducted initial landings, critics and supporters alike agreed that the woman had a keen sense of where to find the latest scoop. When better-known war correspondents flocked to El Alamein and Sapporo, she had moved her team to Maghreb region of Africa. Those who mocked her decision quickly swallowed their words when she broadcast the combat debut of the EU's Panzer-Hummel Ausf. B, followed by that of the Britannian Matilda several months later. While her counterparts snapped up choice positions on the Atlantic Line and in California when the Great War reached the Britannian homeland, she attached herself to a rear-echelon infantry unit in Western New York.

Her subsequent exposé on the usage of chemical weapons by all three armies ignited an international scandal, though even that paled in comparison to her work with a garrison unit in Georgia several months later. With their footage of the Aquila's first appearance, Millicent Ashford and the one cameraman crazy enough to follow her—Rivalz Cardemonde—cemented their places in history.

* * *

The enlisted soldiers of the Britannian military saw the presence of Milly Ashford and Rivalz Cardemonde as both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, the husband-and-wife news team improved morale wherever they went: Rivalz's easygoing demeanor put the troops at ease, and Milly's bubbly personality won over even the hardest of hearts. On the other hand, their presence always heralded some pivotal battle, not matter how unlikely the location. The rumor mills even went as far as to speculate that neither were reporters at all, but deep-cover Military Intelligence agents.

Milly's hand reflexively shot up to brace her helmet as a dozen VTOL gunships roared overhead, their formation peeling apart as Chinese anti-aircraft fire peppered the skies. Hulks of burned-out vehicles and corpses littered the no-man's land between Britannian and Chinese lines, and the reporter could just make out a platoon of APCs attempting to push forward with infantry huddled behind them. Tanks dug in behind a nearby ridge exchanged fire with unseen foes as artillery rumbled in the distance.

"We're live in twenty," Rivalz gave a thumbs-up as he hefted the camera over his shoulder.

Milly unnecessarily adjusted the straps of her well-worn armored vest, the surface scarred and pitted from the countless times it had saved her life. Outwardly calm, the blonde was anything but as she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.

"Live in five."

Her hands shot up to straighten and re-twist her headset's microphone in the final seconds before the cameras started rolling.

"And we're live!"

"Good morning, citizens of the world. This is Milly Ashford reporting live from Edmonton, where the Britannian encirclement of the Chinese forces in the Alberta Capital Region enters its third week. The latest in a string of Britannian offensives dubbed 'Cornelia's Counterattack' after the late General Cornelia li Britannia, the operation in Canada has succeeded in dividing the remaining Chinese forces north of the Rio Grande."

Milly paused as a Matilda II rolled past, the dust cloud momentarily obscuring her view.

"Four hours ago, Britannina forces successfully repulsed the latest Chinese breakout attempt. According to a military spokesperson, Federation forces sustained enormous losses, including the majority of their remaining Knightmares. Imperial High Command has issued a statement urging the remaining Chinese forces in Alberta to surrender and that all those who do so will be treated in accordance with the UFN Convention on Prisoners of War."

Rivalz heard the high-pitched whistle first, and immediately sprang into action.

"Meanwhile, intense fighting continues to…" the camera somehow survived the impact, landing at just the right angle to capture Milly Ashford being tackled to the ground moments before the shell hit.

* * *

The Imperial forces in Alberta were taken completely by surprise as a fresh wave of Federation troops flooded into Canada. Fighting raged for nearly a week, with the Chinese reinforcements ultimately halted a mere forty kilometers short of relieving their besieged comrades. Other war correspondents rushed to report on the renewed offensive, for Millicent Ashford's entire world during those seven days was restricted to a narrow cot in a military field hospital with a curtain pulled around it for some measure of privacy.

Milly awoke on the seventh day to the sight of a now-conscious Rivalz lightly stroking her hair, his hands carefully avoiding her bandages. The shell, as it turned out, was an incendiary device. Milly had suffered disfiguring burns all over her left side, but her husband had fared far worse: his back caught the brunt of the flaming gel, and shrapnel had severed both his legs below the knee. Millicent Ashford, truly at a loss for words for the first time in her life, broke down and cried.

Neither Milly nor Rivalz ever returned to reporting, quietly slipping out of the international spotlight as suddenly as they entered it. When the Great War ended, the couple returned to Japan and set about the monumental task of rebuilding Ashford Academy. Broadcasting royalties and the remaining Ashford inheritance allowed them to live in relative comfort until both passed peacefully in their sleep many decades later.

For generations afterwards, students of the reopened Ashford Academy would pass on stories of the school's resident ghost. Some claimed it resembled the late Empress Nunnally vi Britannia, others the fallen Black Knights ace Kallen Kozuki, and still others a young green-haired woman. Some even claimed the specter took the form of the Knight of Zero Suzaku Kururugi, or even the Demon Emperor himself. All agreed that, no matter what form it took, the spirit watched over the Academy and ensured no harm came to its inhabitants.

* * *

 **A/N:** Uhhh...I guess we can call this a backhanded happy ending?


	10. Time Warped, Part II

**Disclaimer:** _Code Geass and Warhammer 40k_ belong to other people.

 **Time Warped, Part II: The Massacre Princess**

"I think we broke him…" one of the Raiders casually remarked as Suzaku sank to his knees, curled into a ball, and began rocking back and forth.

"Fif…fifty-first mi…millennium?" Kallen sputtered.

"Yes, General Kozuki," another Raider confirmed.

"So…2017 a.t.b.," Lieutenant Evadne addressed her squad, "The Black Knights…well, our version of them…won't be founded for another coupla thousand years…"

"Don't think modern Knightmares are invented yet, either," a Raider added.

"Is Mt. Fuji still in one piece?" the Lieutenant turned to face Lelouch, who could only mutely nod.

"Damn, Zero's not even taken over Terra the first time around yet…"

"Wait…we're back in the First Black Rebellion!" comprehension finally dawned upon the heavily-armed squad.

"Fi…First?" Suzaku squeaked out.

"Hey, if this is the First Black Rebellion, you guys reckon the Massacre Princess still has her mortal body?"

That did it. The nickname snapped Suzaku out of his trance, and he immediately tackled the offending Raider. More accurately, he tried to, and quickly realized he was no match for two tons of Knightmare and wearer.

"We're talking about Princess Euphemia? As in Bloodstained Euphemia? As in the _Euphinator_?" Lelouch visibly bristled with each title.

Anger turned to puzzlement as the two revolutionaries and one Honorary Britannian realized the Raiders' voices were not contemptuous, but rather _starstruck_.

"Oh, that's right…this is _before_ 'that' happens," one of the Raiders finally realized, "A good couple of thousand years before, I think. Wasn't it Psychic Special Warfare that gave that report?"

"I think so…though if we're in the First Black Rebellion…"

"Ah, the SAZ Massacre," Delia concluded, "Classified as an 'Especially Slow Tuesday' in terms of actual death toll, whatever the hell a 'Tuesday' is."

Kallen pinched herself. She would be lying if she said that seeing somebody take the Lancelot's pilot down without blinking wasn't amusing, but her hallucinations were turning into nightmares. There was _no way_ these people would classify somebody trying to kill all the Japanese as "an especially slow Tuesday."

"I suspect we already have done irrevocable damage to the time stream, so gather round and let us tell the tale of the Massacre Princess in the fifty-first millennium. So it began on an Ice World undergoing Exterminatus…"

Unfortunately, a massive Knightmare battle began raging outside the cave at that very moment, drowning out the Raider's words with gunfire and colliding metal. The semi-unwilling audience began to recoil in horror, as they still stood close enough to hear the tale.

"…never knew you could _do_ that with a Warscythe…"

The remnants of Schneizel's fleet joined the rapidly-expanding melee. Airships pulled up next to one another, exchanging cannon fire and boarding teams as flaming hulks crashed into the ocean below.

"… _with his lymphatic system_ …"

Having exhausted the majority of their ammunition, the Burais and Sutherlands began engaging in hand-to-hand combat. Meanwhile in the cave, all three onlookers visibly paled.

"…an avocado hat…"

A contingent of EU Knightmares, displaced in time and space by the irrevocable damage done to the universe by the current explanation of events, joined in.

"... _cocktail wieners and a salad fork_ …"

The wreckage of Knightmares and airships choked the surrounding waters, and the slick of machine oil threatened to ignite at any moment.

"…and three jars of peanut butter!" the Raider proudly concluded, with his squad nodding enthusiastically in support.

Suzaku looked shell shocked, Kallen was hyperventilating, and Lelouch was barely holding back a retch.

" _How many_ tassels?" Lelouch muttered.

"… _never_ looking at green peppers the same way _ever again_ ," Kallen swore.

" _With the moon?_ " Suzaku choked out.

* * *

 **A/N:** So it seems a few people are speculating as to Euphemia's exact nature in the _Code Geass 50k_ timeline. Well, the answers are certainly not here, but I've sprinkled a few foundational pieces in the main story.


	11. Sacrifices

**Disclaimer:** Neither _Code Geass_ nor _Warhammer 40k_ belong to me.

 **Sacrifices**

 _Now known for its massive potential for mayhem, the Yggdrasil-class dreadnought was nearly rejected from the Black Knights' fleet. Though it performed well in trials, the design was significantly more demanding in construction and maintenance cost and crew training than its predecessor— the much-loved Mjolnir-class—and its main competitor—the Bivrost-class. Opponents argued that the Fleet had little need for such a heavily-armed warship designed more for open battle and close-quarters slugging matches than the hit-and-fade attacks preferred by contemporary tacticians. Even the staunchest critic was won over by the performance of the_ Berlin _, a prototype Yggdrasil produced by the Black Knights' skunkworks to test the then-radical octuple hadron beam cannons, during the First Necrotic War of M50._

They struck without warning and in mere moments rendered lifetimes of defensive planning and drills pointless. Crews collapsed in pain, clutching their heads and screaming at monsters only they could see as eldritch superweapons ravaged the picket fleets. Arcs of lightning and powerful particle beams effortlessly tore through hadron fields and rutalium carbide armor as living metal warships jumped in amidst the confusion and brushed aside the response units with contemptible ease.

* * *

"Emergency flash from the _Ikaruga_! All ships are to engage emergency jump!"

The surviving Black Knights warships tightened their formations, greeting any Necron ship that dared approach their charges with volley after volley of hadron beams and FLEIJA warheads. Not even living metal was proof against such a vicious assault, and dozens of warships evaporated before the defenders' fury. Ships hurriedly filled their hangar bays and docking clamps before retreating into the Warp, their navigation computers programmed to execute several random jumps before heading to their final rendezvous point.

Nobody—not even the quadrumvirate—possessed a complete list of the retreat points or even how many there were in total, and the coordinates were constantly changed. All in the name of ensuring at least some of the Fleet survived whatever apocalyptic scenario would actually necessitate their use.

* * *

"22nd Raiders, established hull contact! Begin cutting!"

"4th Raiders, Tomb Ship is at ten kilometers and closing!"

"2nd Raiders, we're through the hull! Ready weapons! Go! Go! Go!"

Hundreds of Raiders and dozens of Sleipnir crews simultaneously came to the conclusion that most of the Fleet would not escape unless a series disruption to the Necrons' command structure took place. They tentatively identified the enemy command ships and, against General Kozuki's orders, launched boarding operations knowing full well that it would be a one-way trip.

"25th Raiders wiped out! Somebody get the explosives they were carrying and blow this door!"

* * *

Though the initial Necron thrust had inflicted heavy casualties, the Black Knights regained some momentum as the enemy fleet split up to destroy as many ships as possible. The Fleet's defenders threw themselves at the smaller squadrons, encircling and destroying them with no regard for losses. Ships were lost by the dozens, but not even Tomb Ships were safe from such an onslaught.

"The _Ikaruga_ 's taking heavy fire!"

Captain Bence Parsamyan of the _Berlin_ could only watch in helpless horror as the overwhelming firepower of a dozen Cairn-class warships effortlessly ripped through the much larger formation of Mjolnir battlecruisers that dared challenge them. The _Ikaruga_ 's hadron fields glowed blood red as arcane Necron weaponry mercilessly pounded them, unleashing enough energy to reduce a planet's crust to molten rock.

"Helm, lock on to the closest Tomb Ship and prepare to jump. We're going to thread the needle."

The Necrons were quickly re-educated on the concept of surprise as the experimental Yggdrasil-class dreadnought appeared within the hollow of a Tomb Ship's crescent-shaped hull. Weapons batteries scrambled to re-orient and face the new threat as the _Berlin_ 's main batteries rang out again and again, the powerful hadron beams carving up the Tomb Ship's hull as defensive batteries futilely pounded at the dreadnought's powerful hadron fields.

"Empty the FLEIJA tubes and jump! We need to buy the defense fleet enough time to regroup!"

* * *

Some onlookers feared the _Berlin_ had destroyed itself as nearly one hundred FLEIJA warheads slammed into the crippled Tomb Ship, atomizing the kilometers-long warship. Those fears were assuaged as the prototype dreadnought emerged from the Warp minutes later, its fields refreshed and FLEIJA tubes reloaded. The Necron fleet commanders were not inclined to underestimate their new opponent, and four Cairns broke formation to intercept the Yggdrasil. The surviving Mjolnirs, having regrouped in the confusion, swarmed one of the Tomb Ships and quickly bought it down.

The Black Knights battlecruisers quickly set their sights on the closest operational Cairn, unloading salvo after salvo into its rear armor before closing in for high-speed strafing runs. The afflicted Tomb Ship broke off its pursuit of the _Berlin_ and, with the Mjolnirs dictating the terms of the battle, quickly succumbed to the weight of accumulated battle damage. Meanwhile, the Yggdrasil turned to face its new opponents, pulling in between them and unleashing one brutal broadside after another.

* * *

"Captain, Batteries C and D are non-responsive! Damage control teams report that the preliminary focus coils have melted!"

Though it was for all intents and purposes a fully-operational warship, the _Berlin_ was still a proof of concept. The current iteration of its primary weapons was simply not able to fire so many times in rapid succession, and the powerful octuple beam batteries began failing one by one.

"Distress signal from the _Ikaruga_! There's a Tomb Ship in its direct path! It can't jump as long as that thing is there!"

Even from such a distance, Captain Parsamyan could tell that the _Ikaruga_ 's hadron fields were on the verge of failing. Arcs of lightning and particle beams passed through the numerous gaps and weak points in coverage, carving great rents in the armor underneath. The Necrons were determined to rip out the heart of the Black Knights: the number of ships attacking the _Ikaruga_ grew every second as wave after wave of Necron reinforcements entered the fray. It was clear that the _Ikaruga_ would not last much longer under such intense bombardment.

"Captain, we're the closest ship that can respond."

"Status of our main batteries?" Bence asked after a moment's pause.

"Non-responsive," a fire control technician shook her head, "A few turrets are still operational, but the fire control is completely fried. We'll need a drydock to fix it."

A meaningful glance passed between the bridge crew. The entire crew knew what had to be done, and all they needed was for their captain to make it official.

"Helm, target that Tomb Ship. Ramming speed. All nonessential personnel are to abandon ship. Once the course is set, I release you all from your posts."

* * *

If sound carried in space, an unholy screech of metal meeting metal would have echoed throughout the battlefield as the _Berlin_ slammed into the blockading Tomb Ship. The Necron warship strained against the much smaller dreadnought, its massive hull slowly edging out of the _Ikaruga_ 's jump vector. The Yggdrasil would enjoy its advantage in the shoving match for only precious seconds more until the Cairn's greater mass and more powerful engines won out.

Captain Bence Parsamyan had prepared for such an inevitability and, seconds before the _Berlin_ would have started losing ground, he detonated the dreadnought's remaining FLEIJA stores.


End file.
